Monday, April 18, 2016

3:00, Frank

I returned from Las Vegas two Thursdays ago after attending the National Conference of Exchangors. This was a business trip, no really it was. In fact, from Sunday evening until Thursday morning, I never left the resort property.

We stayed at The Tuscany. It's off the strip by about a block and is not exactly where the "hip crowd" hangs out at night. That was fine with me. After all, this was a business trip.

Yet it was not all work. On the last night in town, I had the good fortune to see "The Rat Pack is Back!" in The Copa Room at the hotel.

It was a super show. I mean, it was just terrific. I've got a couple of photos below, one of me with the cast and of the promo poster for the show. I have also a link to the show in the credits. If you are in Vegas, GO SEE THIS SHOW! You'll thank me afterwards.

Yours truly with "The Rat Pack," photo by J. Berta.

"The Rat Pack is Back!" poster, photo by J. Berta

A bit of history is in order. "The Rat Pack" has been synonymous with Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., and to a lesser extent, Joey Bishop and Peter Lawford. However, this is not the genesis of this group. It goes back to Humphrey Bogart, who was the original leader of "The Rat Pack." The story associated with this group's birth is when Bogart's wife, Lauren Bacall lamented after Bogart had returned with his crew (after a night out in where else, Vegas) by saying: "You look like a goddamn rat pack."

And thus the legend was born.

By the time 1960 rolled around, "The Rat Pack" was in full effect and were the undisputed royalty of Vegas. The show I saw was such a wonderful tribute to these amazing men. Drew Anthony plays Dean Martin (I have a link to his site below, please check it out) and the other two cast members' names escape me. All of them honored both the spirit and story of these amazing performers, icons actually.

The irony is that Frank, Dino, et al did not like the name, "Rat Pack." Instead, they preferred, "The Summit," with Frank being "The Chairman of the Board." They were on top of the world.

However, it was not always the case. Case in point, Frank Sinatra.

After a meteoric rise, he experienced an equally dramatic (and painful) fall. The 1950s were an especially brutal time for him. The music stopped, the fame went away and, of course, the money. Yet what was perhaps the deepest cut were the people who turned their back on him. One minute everyone wants to buy you drink and the next, they walk right by you without saying a word. How that must have stung.

I read this story from the book, Sinatra 100 by Charles Pigonne about how Sinatra was so alone that he had no where to go for Thanksgiving. From the book, as told by Joe Scognamillo, proprietor of Patsy's Italian Restaurant:

"After he finished eating, Frank says to my father, 'I think I'll have Thanksgiving here with you guys. What time are you serving?' My dad looked at Frank, and understood how alone he felt. He could have told Frank that the restaurant was closed on Thanksgiving and invited him home to dinner. But he knew that would hurt Frank's pride, so he just said, 'Three o'clock, Frank. We're serving at three.'"

I've got a link to a New York Times story below that also relates this tale. This is a story that reminds me no matter "great" or "famous" someone appears to be, no one is immune from loneliness, from rejection. In the same story, Mr. Scognamillo related how when Frank was down and out people would walk by him at the restaurant, ignoring him. Here is the same man that just a few years' later would be larger than life, headlining The Sands and being THE act to see, THE man to hang out with, cheer, love, adore, worship even.

A book that has recently had a profoundly positive impact on me is Marcus Aurelius' Meditations. People I admire like Ryan Holiday and Tim Ferriss have spoken positively about this book and with good reason. Meditations is the private diary of the Aurelius, a Roman Emperor. It's an amazing book and I have a link to it below in the sources. One of the lines that came to mind as I was working on this blog post is"...that poor thing called fame..."

Poor is fame indeed. Those who have it know in their hearts that some day it will end. I suppose that when Frank, et al, were holding court at The Sands they knew the wild cheering would fade, snuffed out like a cigarette in a blackened heap of smoke.